


Set the Past Aflame, Disregard the Poisoned Name

by quinnovative



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established SuperCorp, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Lena knows Kara is supergirl, SuperCorp, background sanvers, lillian dies within the first five sentences
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-26
Updated: 2017-03-26
Packaged: 2018-10-11 08:46:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10460736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quinnovative/pseuds/quinnovative
Summary: "Lena had testified against her mother, then watched her die before she could even react.But she still felt the blood on her flesh, still heard the declarations of rejection cycling through her head again and again and again."[...]"Just like that, Lena broke the first Luthor rule she’d learned.Lena blinked at Kara through watery eyes and not a moment later the CEO was engulfed in strong arms and body heat, felt Kara lift her, curl themselves together on the couch. "orLena's a mess after Lillian dies, and she doesn't even know why, thinks it has something to with all the bad memories death brings back--all the damage that's been done. She just knows she needs Kara.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Most of this was written at 2am. I honestly don't even know where these ideas come from anymore. I went in expecting fluff and came out a couple thousand words later with angst.
> 
> Btw, this is set a few months in the future and Kara/Lena have been dating for a couple of weeks.

Lena blinked, eyelids heavy as she stared down at the reports scattered across her desk. A yawn worked its way out of her lungs, the figures in front of her were blurred, and behind her, moonlight lit the balcony.

She attempted to make a note at the top of a paper, but her hands still shook—some combination of the insurmountable amounts of coffee she’d been consuming to compensate for lack of sleep over the past weeks, the bullet that’d torn skin off her shoulder, and the overwhelming emotional weight of the past fourteen hours.

At 11:43 AM on a Sunday, Lillian Luthor died.

In broad daylight.

Lena wouldn’t have believed it, wouldn’t have seen it as anything more than manipulation or deception, if she hadn’t been there.

If she hadn’t seen the spray of bullets when they emerged from the court house. If Lena hadn’t seen Lillian take her last breath; if Lena’s hands hadn’t been soaked in blood, drenched in crimson that smeared across her skin and splattered the pavement; if she hadn’t heard Lillian’s final words—a vile crescendo of hatred and degradation of her adopted daughter burning across the woman’s last exhale. 

Lena had testified against her mother, then watched her die before she could even react.

But she still felt the blood on her flesh, still heard the declarations of rejection cycling through her head again and again and again.

_Lena you’re worthless._

She should feel relieved by her mother’s death; some twisted, morbid justice, maybe. The world was now a safer place. But Lena felt too much. Lena always felt too much or not enough.

_Lena you are weak._

She looked down at her shaking hands and found that she agreed.

_Lena you are a disgrace to the Luthor name._

She was proud of that, at least. But the dig only served as a reminder of the past, of years spent trying to belong _somewhere._ Memories of being four years old and degraded for crying out in her sleep for her mom, for waking from a nightmare screaming. Lillian had rules in the Luthor household, rules that you wouldn’t dare break if you wanted to make it through the day unscathed and ignored; if you wanted to be invisible.

And she did. Lena so badly wanted to be invisible.

The first rule came to Lena at four years old, the first night she stepped into the Luthor mansion. Do not cry, and at the very least, have enough self-respect not to cry in front of others. Lillian had snapped at Lena as she’d quivered in footie pajamas from her old life, the words seared into Lena’s brain.

_Lena you will never be enough. Lena you have nowhere and no one. Lena we never loved you. You were a power play, a publicity stunt, a pawn._

_Lena, have you ever noticed that everything you touch breaks? Shatters, and turns to dust in your hands._

_Lena, Lena, Lena._

_This was all your fault._

_Nothing can change that. Nothing can fix the damage you’ve caused and the damage inside you._

_You are broken, Lena._

_Lena, Lena, Lena._

The voice, the noise was laced with venom as it banged around her skull, cut away pieces of her heart with each repetition.

/

Meanwhile at the DEO, Alex monitored Kara as the blonde sprawled beneath the sunlamps. Maggie spun in a chair as Alex scrolled through her sister’s most recent tests.

After nearly passing out that morning after an encounter and fight with an alien three times Kara’s size and in possession of the ability to produce raw electricity, Alex had forced the blonde into resting on the bed where she promptly collapsed into sleep, powers edging a solar flare.

“How’s she looking?” Maggie asked, stopping mid-spin to await Alex’s response.

“Much better. Her cells are almost completely replenished. I think she’ll wake up soon.”

“Good,” Maggie said with a nod.

“You don’t have to stay here, it’s almost two in the morning. You can go home, I’ll meet you there.”

The detective shook her head. “I like being here with you. Plus, I gotta keep an eye out for Little Danvers, too, you know.”

Alex smiled, turning away from the computer and kissing Maggie. “I ask myself everyday how I got so lucky.”

Maggie just grinned. “Me too, Danvers.”

/

Lena wanted to forget. She wanted to drown and never return.

She saw her biological mother dying, she saw Lex insane, saw her hands covered in blood. So much blood. Always, always so much blood everywhere she walked, every time she breathed.

She saw Kara. Oh god, she’d let Kara down. She always let everyone down.

She hadn’t heard from Kara that morning, when she’d kissed Lena and promised that although she’d be unreachable for the majority of the day due to specific DEO business, but they were still on for movie night even if it’d have to be late at around ten.

Lena hadn’t called, neither had Kara. 10:00 PM had come and gone hours ago.

She saw Maggie, face some mix of pity and horror as Lillian had died, her blood drenching Lena. She saw Maggie’s features, morph into an expression of anger when she heard the words she spewed at Lena on her dying breath. She saw Maggie coax her away as police and medics gathered. Maggie had whispered gently, stood by the CEO, and defended her as Lena flinched away from EMTs.

“Lena, you’re bleeding,” Maggie had said. “You need to get checked out. A bullet grazed your shoulder.”

But Lena was shaking, tensing up every time an EMT tried to touch her. “What if I call Alex, Little Luthor? She can patch you up,” Maggie had said and Lena didn’t remember much after that, except that she must have answered in the affirmative because Alex had shown up, had stitched Lena with gentle, practiced movements.

All the conversation was jumbled in her head, Alex’s words lost, because she couldn’t think past the fact that Lillian had been shot, and once Alex said her sister’s name, Lena’s brain latched onto a concept and looped.

Kara wasn’t there.

Lena needed Kara more than anything in the world, and Kara wasn’t there.

Lena didn’t blame her.

So the second Alex and Maggie finished their work at the scene, and Lena found enough heartbreaking clarity to give a coherent statement to the police, she slinked away to her L-Corp building.

She needed to do work.

There was never enough time.

She would never finish.

She couldn’t go back to her apartment and sit with her thoughts.

Maybe she would never be enough, but she would always try.

At 2:11 AM the office was empty and Lena was alone, had been alone for the past twelve hours she’d been there. Always alone, and as grief wracked her shoulders she felt a deep tangibility to her agony—a tug in her stomach, a fire in her lungs and pressure in her chest and pounding in her head.

She tilted her head back, downing the remaining alcohol in a bottle of scotch. With trembling fingers she threw it across the room, watched as it shattered and fell and glass scattered across the floor. She stood, barefoot as she paced because she couldn’t sit still anymore.

She dragged a palm across her cheek, pressing so hard against the bone the skin grew red, in an attempt to shove away nonexistent tears. Her steps wavered, legs shaking as she crossed the room to the coffee table, took the chess set in her hands, felt a burn in her arm where the bullet had ripped the edge of her skin, took two steps forward and let the chess set fall, let it hit the ground and shatter, glass pieces and board cracking into fragments.

Fractured.

And she sunk to the ground as another onslaught of shivers shook her frame and a scream bellowed from her lungs, clawed its way out of her throat and shook the early morning air.

/

Kara woke to Lena’s screaming, blocks away in the DEO base, under sunlamps the blonde’s eyes flew open and she jolted up, throwing her legs over the edge of the table.

“Kara—“ Alex’s hand immediately found her sister’s shoulder.

“It’s Lena,” Kara said, glancing around the room, looking behind Alex to see Maggie, a look of concern intensifying on the detective’s face at Lena’s name.

“What happened?” Kara asked, looking between the two women. She could hear Lena screaming, could hear it pounding in her head. Her voice toed the line of hysteria.

“You were out for more than half the day, after the fight yesterday morning with—“

Kara shook her head, moved to the edge of the bed. “Not that,” she said, voice sharp. “I mean Lena.” Her gaze caught the clock and another icicle of worry stabbed inside her. “It’s two in the morning and she’s screaming at L-Corp. Something’s wrong. She’s not hurt… she’s,” Kara paused, squeezing her eyes shut to listen more closely to the CEO. “She’s sad. I’ve never heard her this sad. What happened? What’s wrong?”

They relayed the prior events to Kara, saw the blonde’s face fall with each comment about Lena’s tenseness and resignation, about the vacant gaze that’d filled her eyes like something inside of her snapped and sent years of sadness pouring out, about Lena’s insistence on returning to L-Corp to work. Her insistence that she was fine, the unsettling notation that Lena was barely registering anything Maggie and Alex had even said.

“I have to go,” Kara said and stood.

“Wait, Kar, maybe you should take a second.”

Maggie squeezed Alex’s hand gently, caught her gaze. Alex blinked, took a breath, looked back at Kara. “Go,” she said softly to the blonde, hand rubbing her sister’s back. “Just be smart and safe, and take care of her, okay?”

Kara nodded and disappeared into the darkness of early morning.

/

Lena’s legs pressed against her chest, face buried in her knees as her body quivered.

The sound of a door opening filled the air, caused her eyes to snap open. She tried to stumble upward as a figure entered the room, too dark to make out, but she slipped forward instead, hands pressing into shards of broken glass. She whimpered, crouching on the floor as she heard rustling behind her from the balcony.

“Lena?” Kara voice cut through the darkness like the first rays of sunlight after a sleepless night of horror filled dreams and sobbing.

“Ka—Kara,” Lena managed, choking on a lump in her throat.

“Oh, Lena,” Kara said and Lena found that the name she’d begun to hate didn’t sound so bad—didn’t sound bad at all, actually—when it came from Kara’s mouth. “Lena, I’m sorry. Oh, I’m so sorry.”

With Kara standing in front of Lena, silhouette soaked in starlight shimmering behind her—just the embodiment of pure _goodness_ , as Lena stared up at her—apology pouring from her soft lips for something that wasn’t even close to her fault, body poised to leap forward and pull Lena into a hug, as if to protect her from some attacker (but the demon wasn’t approaching, the demon was inside her, the demon was her past and how do you fight something you can’t truly see?), tears burned in her eyes and finally— _finally—_ she let the damned cries fall down her cheeks and soak the papers scattered on the floor beneath her, until the ink ran.

She cried for everything that had been wrong, for the adoptive mother that never loved her, the brother that went mad, the father that was dead, the biological mother who was barely a shadow in her mind—whose voice she could no longer hear, whose scent had faded, whose touch was vacant, whose softness felt only like a ghost in a fading memory from a life that was not hers.

Just like that, Lena broke the first Luthor rule she’d learned.

Lena blinked at Kara through watery eyes and not a moment later the CEO was engulfed in strong arms and body heat, felt Kara lift her, curl themselves together on the couch. “I didn’t know,” Kara said. “I didn’t know what happened, or that you felt all of this.”

“You shouldn’t be here. You shouldn’t see me like this,” Lena muttered, breath hot against Kara’s collarbone.

“No, Lena,” Kara said and brushed dark hair off the woman’s warm forehead, hairline damp with sweat. “No, you shouldn’t be alone right now, but if you… if you want me to go, I will.”

Lena shook her head against Kara’s shoulder, another sob spilling forth. It felt like she had been yielding an ice pick at glacier for years and finally, just now, she had made a crack—could see the dip of light shine its way through a millimeter of space. “Stay,” she breathed. “Pl-please stay.”

Kara stroked Lena’s hair, pulled her tight with the other. “Of course.”

“Th-thank you.”

Kara hummed in response, rubbing up and down Lena’s back. “I would have been here earlier if I could have. I promise I just found out.”

Lena nodded, as she moved her hands to squeeze Kara closer a yelp slipped forward from the brunette.

Kara’s brows furrowed, she leaned back to examine the other woman, felt her heart catch in her throat when she took Lena’s hands in her own and saw them covered in blood, pieces of glass still wedged inside skin.

“Lena,” Kara whispered, eyes seeking out green in the darkness. “You’re bleeding. C’mon, let me fix this.”

Lena looked up to meet the Kryptonian’s eyes, remained wordless. Kara cajoled her upward and into the bathroom, where Lena winced in the sudden brightness, closing her eyes and bringing a hand to her head, only drawing another whimper.

“Sorry,” Kara said. “I need the light to make sure I get everything out, but I’ll be as quick as I can without hurting you.”

Lena remained rigid and silent as Kara found a pair of tweezers, pulled the glass from the woman’s skin. Kara hummed softly as she worked and Lena finally felt some of her muscles relax, some of the ache in her chest alleviate. She barely flinched when Kara cleaned the cuts, wrapped them in bandages found in a first aid kit beneath the sink.

 Shivers wracked Lena’s body as Kara finished, turned the lights back off to ease the pain in the woman’s head. “We should get you home, you need to rest,” Kara said.

Lena shook her head fiercely, ignoring the way it magnified the pounding. “Not my apartment. Please, I can’t,” she whispered. She couldn’t do it, couldn’t stand another second in rooms that felt empty, in a construction of drywall and ceilings and catalog furniture that only served as a reminder of everything that went wrong in her life.

“What about my place?” Kara asked.

“It’s not too much trouble?”

Kara shook her head. “Absolutely not. Lena, nothing is too much trouble when it comes to you.”

/

“I hate her,” Lena said, muttering against Kara’s neck as the Kryptonian held her, tearing through the skies. “I’m not—I’m not even sad that she’s gone, I think. I think I’m just upset over everything that never was. I hate her, Kara,” Lena said. “I hate her so much.”

“I know.”

“I don’t even know what I’m feeling or why,” Lena whispered as wind mused her hair.

“That’s okay.”

Something about the early morning air and the tightness of Kara’s gentle hold pulled words from Lena, cloaked her body in comfort. She talked and talked, more words and tears spilling forward than ever before. With Lillian gone, a barrier lifted.

“Lena, you will always have me,” Kara promised, pressing a kiss into the other woman’s hair, whispering in her ear. Lena’s eyes had fallen shut minutes ago, they should have reached Kara’s place a while ago (and by a while, Lena means at least an hour), but the blonde noticed the effect flying was having on Lena.

Kara had said they were just taking a little detour to avoid air traffic; but Lena swore she’d seen the Statue of Liberty bathed in moonlight, had seen New York City’s skyline twinkle below them as her breath steadied hundreds of miles away from National City.

“Kara, you can take me back now,” Lena said, a small smile twisting across her lips. “I’m okay, you don’t need to waste any more time.  I’m sure you need to sleep.”

The blonde made a face, but there was a smile beneath her faux confusion, a glimmer in her eyes. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Lena. I’ve been taking you home the whole time. I was just going the long way.”

“Right, of course.” She muttered, eyes still shut. She shifted in Kara’s hold, head lolling against the woman’s collar bone. “Thank you, Kara,” she whispered, words slurring a bit. “For all of this. I don’t deserve it.”

Kara’s feet touched down onto her balcony, but she kept Lena in her arms. “You’re welcome, but you deserve all the good things in this world, Lena. I’ll do everything I can to give them to you.”

Lena opened her mouth to protest, felt her body sink into the softness of Kara’s bed.

“Go to sleep,” Kara said, pulling blankets over Lena. “We can talk in the morning. We’ll worry about it all then.”

“Stay ‘ere?” Lena murmured and felt the mattress dip a moment later as Kara laid on the other side. Sleepily Lena reached for Kara, curled their fingers together.

Kara twirled her free hand through Lena’s hair, promise luring the brunette to sleep. “I’ve got you,” Kara whispered. “You’ve got me; you’ve got us. You have a family, Lena.”

And, although Kara’s words were soft, they were louder than Lillian’s voice in Lena’s head.

_Lena, you have a family._

A sob cracked from her lips and Kara ushered Lena into her hold. The brunette murmured something into Kara’s shoulder.

“What was that?”

“I haven’t cried in front of someone since I was four years old,” Lena whispered between gasps for air. “It was one of Lillian’s rules.”

Anger burned in Kara’s chest at the unfairness Lena had to put up with. “That’s a stupid rule,” Kara said before she could help herself.

Lena let out a watery laugh, smiling into Kara’s shoulder. “I agree.”

Kara pressed a kiss into Lena’s hair and when she pulled back Lena was grinning. “Kara?”

“Hmm?”

“I have an idea.”

“Okay.”

“I’m going to break every single one of Lillian’s damn rules.”

“I like that idea,” Kara smiled and her eyes were sparkly and both their faces were so close and they must have been in sync or drawn close by some sort of gravity because Lena closed her eyes and so did Kara and then their lips were together and Lena relished in the familiarity of their kiss, of Kara’s heartbeat.

Lena giggled when they broke apart and Kara smiled, found herself laughing too. “What so funny?” she asked.

Lena dipped her head into the crook of Kara’s neck, laughing as she spoke.

“We just broke another rule.”

 

 


End file.
